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- tender, morbid and streaming power;

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Iscariot
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#5


HOW DOES A MYTH COME TO BE?

How long has it been? Since she’d thought of him, since she’d heard or remembered anyone besides her mother? And  longer still since she’s felt anything like love. Iscariot’s breath rattles against her teeth, and her eyes drift closed. Valefor’s muzzle is blisteringly warm where it meets her neck. And yet for all Iscariot’s griping she can’t find a single thing to complain about. Not the warmth of his skin, the cool-salty breeze of the ocean, not even the thing nestled against Iscariot’s heart that still pangs for the family that hasn’t reappeared.

She sighs. A whoosh of relieved breath, an exhale that stings and grates. She squints against the sun; her swath of dark lashes flutters in protest, but she cannot, will not, look away. What a handsome brother she has! And so different from her, too. Light where she is dark and fiery where she is dull, tall and bulky  as a giant when lit against her small, sharp frame. The pleasure and the pride that overcomes her as she steps back to glance at him is only partially severed by the question he asks next.

Iscariot’s nostrils flare, and her lips press into a deeper line. Perhaps her eyes darken, but that might just be the light, playing tricks as harsh as a mirage in the Mors.

“No,” she answers. With heartbreaking honesty, with just a little twinge of resentment, sharp as tacks in the tone as much as in the back of her mouth. “I know nothing of him, only that he was a wretch, and long gone from my homeland far before I was born.” Iscariot has long since gotten over her anger. But what hurts her still, twists the little knife in her heart, is the hope that she hears in Valefor’s voice and sees shining in his eyes. The same stupid, infinite hope that she had found in Magdalene, sometimes, when she prayed or begged for him to return.

It had always rubbed her the wrong way. It had always made her teeth itch, sanded her mouth to the painful pink gums. And now this. Now her brother, asking for him—the one thing she has left, ready to run. How can she be kind?













Messages In This Thread
tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Iscariot - 06-27-2019, 10:02 PM
RE: tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Valefor - 08-05-2019, 06:31 PM
RE: tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Iscariot - 08-12-2019, 12:02 AM
RE: tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Valefor - 08-25-2019, 01:29 PM
RE: tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Iscariot - 09-30-2019, 11:09 PM
RE: tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Valefor - 10-21-2019, 08:36 PM
RE: tender, morbid and streaming power; - by Iscariot - 10-27-2019, 06:48 PM
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